


Leftovers

by itsaquinnquinnsituation



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:13:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsaquinnquinnsituation/pseuds/itsaquinnquinnsituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know those guys who always stay at the night club right up until they close? Well, at the one Louis works at, they have a special name for them. They call them "leftovers."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leftovers

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure fiction and I do not own either real people or fictional characters that I based off the real people. I do not mean to offend anyone.
> 
> This is my universe and exactly how I see it. Writing should be enjoyed not judged.
> 
> This is much in style of my previous stories. 
> 
> This is written in objective third person point of view as an exercise. I am writing a somewhat similar but much larger piece in this style, fyi and it will be posted later. I hope you enjoy.

"You better go now if you want to have a shot at catching a cab, Louis."

"I just had a shot."

"What?"

"Of tequila" - Louis turns to the other lad with a lazy smile.

"Where's your shirt?"

Louis shrugs his shoulders and blinks slowly and with visible effort:

"Somewhere on the floor maybe... or someone took off with it."

"Not that same psycho you reported for stalking?" - the lad stretches his lips, eyes stern and intent, - "Because that was..."

"No" - Louis retorts, - "And he returned two of my t-shirts. Unwashed. I guess it's the smell thing..."

"Jesus" - the lad shakes his head, - "Anyway" - he nudges Louis pointing at the mostly empty dance floor with his head, - "it's just the leftovers now."

"Ew. Throw them to the dogs" - Louis chugs what was left of the drink in his hand and leans clumsily into the other lad, - "I'll see you tomorrow, Zayn."

"You both open and close" - Zayn yells after him as Louis proceeds to hug another bartender. Louis nods slightly and waives his hand behind his back.

He makes his way slowly and unsteadily to the first floor where a club's team t-shirt is handed to him, still in folding crinkles and smelling new and he takes at least half-a-minute to pull it onto his sticky torso despite it being a size too big. 

He trips and collides hard with someone just at the exit door and another employee pulls them apart, shaking his head, brows frowned. 

"We gotta have someone escort you" - he says and starts looking around. 

"I'll do it" - Louis hears from somewhere on his left.

"You will?" - the burly guard wonders turning in that direction.

"Just help 'im get a cab, yeah?" - the same deep voice replies, - "yeah, sure, I can do that."

"Cheers, man" - the club employee replies quickly extracting Louis from under his armpit and thrusting him into the direction of the good Samaritan, - "tomorrow your cover's on us. In fact this one here might be working the front. If he doesn't remember you, just ask for Rory, that's me. So long."

They walk outside, and warm, heavy, humid air hits them and Louis winces. He hiccups and takes a long look at the lad, whose tight embrace across the shoulders is now guiding him down the street. 

"I remember you" - he says and exhales some alcohol fumes.

The other lad nods, not taking his eyes off the mostly empty street in front of them. Dozens of streetlights illuminate their way and the bright contrast between the black sky and artificial yellow glare is harsh. Louis winces.

"Yeah, I remember you. You come here.... hk..... every week."

The lad nods again. They turn onto the bigger road and stop abruptly. Louis sways but the lad catches him and Louis lets out a barking laugh.

"What's your name?" - his voice has an exaggeratedly lewd intonation in it and his eyes are half-lidded.

"Harry" - his guide replies quietly, still not looking at him.

"I'm Louis" - Louis drawls out and creeps in front of Harry and gets on his tippy toes to look him in the eye.

"I know" - Harry side-steps and waives his hand in front of his face, then takes a step closer to the road again, - "I'm trying to watch for a cab."

"Just call one, smartass" - Louis huffs out and sways again.

"I would if it were not 5 o'clock in the morning" - Harry cuts off, - "You're here at luck's mercy."

"And *you* are here at luck's mercy too" - Louis mocks pointing a finger at the lad.

"No, I'm not" - the lad finally turns to him, - "I live five blocks away. I can walk home."

"Hmmm" - Louis rolls his eyes and gives the stranger a once-over, - "what are we still doing here then?"

"I'm trying to help you get home" - Harry removes Louis' hand that started to creep up over his chest, all the while keeping his other arm securely over Louis' waist and grabs it tighter still as Louis sways back against it again.

"Whohohohow" - Louis coos out blinking repeatedly, attempting with more eagerness now to get into Harry's face, - "*you* don't want to take me home?"

"I want to *get* *you* home"- Harry says and sighs shallowly, allowing his eyes to make contact with Louis' - "you're drunk and I am trying to help you out. That's all."

Louis steps out of Harry's hold and laughs obnoxiously until he coughs up a ball of snot which he proceeds to spit onto the sidewalk:

"Oh, please! Don't get all prudish on me! *You*, let me remind you, *you* come to my club every Friday and every fucking... what's it called.. Saturday, and *you* are pulling this 'holier than thou' thing on me? I just work at the place and you..."

"I am not pulling anything" - Harry sighs out, eyes trained on Louis, - "You work at a place I frequent, and I am trying to help. *You* can have anyone you want from the customer or even the employee pool, so please. It doesn't have to be me."

Louis spits again then turns his face to the sky and inhales sharply. It's a clear night but no stars can be seen through the obnoxious glare of the streetlights and neon signs. Washington, DC works hard. It parties hard, too.

"And what do you do?" - he walks a step closer to Harry and poses himself firmly. Harry gives him a look then nods up ahead:

"Let's walk a block. Maybe we'll have better luck."

"I don't want to walk" - Louis cuts off and does not look away, - "now, what do you do for a job?"

"I am a medical student. Now, can we stop it?"

"A medical student? A medical student?"

"Yes, a medical student, third year, hoping for cardiology, are you satisfied? Now, can we walk?"

"Fuck" - Louis spits and does proceed to take a few steps. Harry walks alongside him, - "A medical student... the fuck are you doing at my club?"

"I am *still* *gay*"- Harry points out sternly looking straight ahead, - "I do what I gotta do..."

"You do what you gotta do?" - Louis stops abruptly and his mouth twists into a smirk, - "a fucking medical student comes to my trashy gay club and gives me the 'tude and fucking says "I do what I gotta do"? Jesus fuck. Like I can't even believe it." 

He shakes his head and Harry looks on, brows frowned.

"The fuck you come to my club for? And don't give me that "I just want to have a good time crap"!"

"Ugh... okay" - Harry deflates visibly and waives his hand, - "Listen man, I did not mean to offend you. Let's just forget any of this ever transpired, alright? I was just trying to help you out."

But Louis scoffs and shakes his head.

"Well, let me guess" - he proceeds, pitch higher than usual, - "You're tired as fuck of your medical classmates because - what the fuck - *I* wouldn't want to talk about money all the time either, and you have had no luck with the local dating sites, not because *the people on there* are freaks, but because *you* are more freaky than them, and you come here every week with a desperate hope of finding The One...like.. I don't know... someone pulling you into a chaste kiss and the rest of the floor going grey, the music being drowned out, just lost in this perfect moment and... then of course it turns into a happily ever after" - he breaks into a sharp bark of laughter, - "Impressed? Didn't think that some lowly bartender would have any brain cells left to spare? Well, let it be an eye opener for you."

Harry blinks.

"And let me tell you this straight, my dear sweet boy, this is not how this thing in this world works. You take your life and fucking have a good time while you can. You are here and now and grab those chances by the balls and make the best of them, got it? You see a cute one, you grab 'im. Alright?"

"No" - Harry responds quietly and lifts his eyes off the ground, - "I don't play by these rules."

"You don't play by these rules, you don't play at all" - Louis scoffs.

"You're right" - Harry proceeds firmly, - "I'd rather not play at all."

"Jesus fuck" - Louis looks up at the sky again and shakes his head, shifting from foot to foot, - "what kind of a dumb fuck are you? You're a good-looking boy, I'll give you that, but you're stupid, you're stupid like I don't know what.... you know... you know..." - he throws his arms up and takes a step back, - "okay.. go ahead... keep coming to my club.. damn, what the fuck do I care? Keep leaving at five in the morning alone, keep spending the next day with a blasting headache and glued to your phone hoping somebody would text you and if they don't, keep coming here again, looking like an underage in a liquor store... Fuck... fuck..." - He turns and starts walking away, Harry left motionless in the middle of the sidewalk. 

A beat passes. Louis sways a little and a hand grabs him by the back of the neck, the other already attempting to turn him around and he sticks both of his ones in front, pushing away. They trip and stumble and nearly fall over but the neighbouring brick building catches them, Louis being the one pressed into the wall.

Both are breathing heavily, Harry's pupils dilated, making his green eyes look completely black. Louis smirks and attempts to escape but Harry is quick to tighten his grip, knuckles blanching.

"You had your go, you *know it all prick*, now my turn" - Harry seethes, - "You think you got the whole game figured out, but let me tell you, you hate your life just as much as I hate mine. You work the same shifts, listen to the same music, fuck the same people, but in addition to it all you're most likely dealing with severe heartburn, recurrent migraines and some hearing loss. You probably have to go in for STD check almost weekly - no, fuck that, excuse me, you've given up on keeping track of that stuff, - but you do constantly buy cheap new t-shirts paying in one dollar bills, you stopped being embarrassed over introducing yourself anew to people you've fucked before - and probably more than once - and your place most likely looks worse than the washrooms at your club."

Louis looks at him unblinking, mouth agape.

"And all of it why? Because you have given up. You've given up on finding that which I am still looking for. Because the only reason you'd know exactly how I feel is because *you* have been there before!"

Harry lets go abruptly and steps back and Louis slides down the wall into a crouching position on the filthy asphalt. He is still looking up at the other lad and Harry is looking down at him, breathing heavily, fists closed. Louis breaks eye contact first and buries his face in his hands, collapsing onto the ground fully and stretching out his legs.

"And you think that all you have left to offer is sex" - Harry continues after a while, opening up his hands and lowering his voice, - "You have a body, which, thanks to all the pole dancing and all those times you only have alka-seltzer for lunch, is still hot, although showing some signs of abuse; you have a pretty face which is probably all you have energy left to care about and you have come to think that this is all that you're worth... "

"Stop" - Louis whispers inhaling ruggedly, - "stop... acting... like you're trying to save me."

"You started it." - Harry crouches down next to him.

Louis shakes his head, face still buried in his hands.

"You did" - Harry continues, - "In your own way... you tried to warn me... and when I said you have much more to give than your body, *this* is what I meant..."

"Well, who made you the shrink?" - Louis' face is red as he pulls it out of his hands but his lips stretch into a tiny smile. A beat passes.

"Oh Jesus!" - Louis exclaims suddenly and bangs the back of his head on the wall before turning away and blinking.

"What is it?"

"Ugh... fuck!" - He wipes his hand over his face, - "did we... we didn't... before....?" - he waives a hand between himself and Harry.

"No" - Harry smiles, exhaling, - "But you did try to kiss me once. Not at this one... at a different club. But just then someone bumped into me and I'm pretty sure you ended up kissing that guy's shoulder. Or maybe it was his neck? I don't know..." - and Harry laughs quietly and Louis laughs too, just a little at first, but then they are both giggling. Eventually Louis stops, smile vanishing, and asks:

"And then? What did I do afterwards?"

"Don't... " - Harry starts, - "it doesn't... I think you may have disappeared with someone into the washroom... don't..."

Louis is shaking his head but before he buries it in his hands again, Harry catches his cheek in his palm and holds Louis' head up. He moves it a little and places his thumb over Louis' lips. Louis gives it a tiny kiss. Harry swipes both of his hands gently over Louis' cheeks. They look at each other in silence.

"I hate this t-shirt" - Louis says suddenly, looking down and pulling at the hem of his over-sized shirt and examining the club's logo, - "I fucking hate this ugly t-shirt."

Harry smiles and jumps to his feet, stretching his hand out to Louis.

"You know, I've heard what you call those guys who leave your club last..." - he says, pulling Louis up, - "leftovers." You call them "leftovers." But you know what *I* do with *my* leftovers?"

Louis looks at him as Harry gives him a wide dimply smile.

"Well, I take *my* leftovers home."


End file.
